


Courage Found In A Just Heart

by Sigmund



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3483647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigmund/pseuds/Sigmund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From bbcmusketeerskinkmeme: D'artagnan's father is an ex-red guard. And is/was not a very kind man. The only reason D'artagnan is the same kind, sweet, and loyal young man is due to the small influence of his mother and a letter she wrote to him before she was killed.</p><p>when he is 19, he is forced to join the guard after his fathers death. The training is hellish, and he is mostly abused/bullied by the others. He see's the brotherhood of the Musketeers from afar and can't help but be envious.</p><p>Because of this abuse, he thinks very little of himself, but still tries to help no matter what. As his mother once said "take courage and be kind" and he does. And when he overhears a conversation between a dark haired woman and the Cardinal to kill a man name Athos of the Musketeers, he finally puts that courage to use. And thus he becomes intertwined with everyone, and eventually set free from the guard and taken under the wing of the 3 greatest men he has ever meet...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DebbieF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/gifts).



> I have so many stories started, but I am working on all of them and post when I am finished. Wish I had more time, but I hope this has been a good use of my hibernation. Anyway, thank you, thank you if you have left kudos on my other stories. I wish there was a better way to say thank you. I want to gift this to DebbieF because she is so prolific in writing d'Artagnan stories. All mistakes my own.

There was no rest for d'Artagnan as he tended to the land and farm only to return home to help his ailing father. Alexandre, although struggling with his breath, still had a firm grip on his teenage son. "You owe it to me, boy. Once I'm gone you are to go to Paris. Honor this family and become a Red Guard."

The Red Guards did not call to the young man, his mother having filled his head with stories of knights. He never thought about his future since his mother's passing it was the farm, then Red Guards, then once his duty was completed he would return to the farm that his uncle would maintain for him.

Alexandre wanted his son's oath. "Promise me. On your honor."

In his doublet was the letter his mother had left him with her blessing to follow his heart. _Take courage, be kind and justice will follow._

It was not meant to be as his father waited for an answer. "I promise." With that promise the fanciful dream of being able to make his own choice about his future was gone.

After exacting the vow, his father took an easier breath. "It will make you a better man than you are. Not so disappointing."

"Yes, father." d'Artagnan was accustomed to the demeaning statements. "You should rest."

(())

His uncle took over the farm as expected, giving d'Artagnan a small stipend to follow his father's orders. The letter of recommendation to the Captain of the Red Guards was secure in his saddle bag. The introduction at the barracks was not welcoming, but he was given a placement on his father's reputation.

LaBarge was put in charge of his training, a brutal man who gave him no rest or quarter. Training consisted of avoiding serious injuries. d'Artagnan learned to defend himself or perish.

That wasn't enough.

He needed to learn to attack. To this end LaBarge took prisoners, put swords in their hands and offered them freedom if they were able to kill one of the trainees. d'Artagnan wanted to survive so he fought. The young man believed there would be a better tomorrow if he could live to see the next day. It was what his mother would want for her son.

There was no rest, his four barrack mates were bullies, glad they had a red uniform so they could wreak havoc on the citizens of Paris. d'Artagnan tried not to draw too much attention, but by not participating he had made enemies. The young man could trust no one as he donned his uniform to help to guard the Cardinal. Watching in court as the religious leader ran the country, the King following the directives of his minister.

Mostly, d'Artagnan was ignored, blending in, which would do nothing for his career. It made it difficult for him to move from novice to commissioned guard. From all accounts within three months the Cardinal would raise him officially in the ranks as a legacy. The Red Guards were unlike the Musketeers who had to prove their skills to the King in order to serve. If that were the case, then d'Artagnan would be a lost cause for his skills were proving to be less than adequate according to LaBarge.

(())

"Captain Treville, what do you say about the Cardinal's idea?"

d'Artagnan startled at the name. Surely, this was not the same man?

His beloved mother had told stories about her younger brother, Jean Armand Treville. All coincidence until d'Artagnan confirmed the Captain's full name.

When Therese d'Artagnan was eight years old, her mother passed away. Soon after her father remarried and had a son, Jean Armand. She had expected great things from him, and d'Artagnan wished she could see him as the Captain of the Musketeers.

They used to pretend what it would be like when she saw her brother and d'Artagnan was introduced to his uncle.

"Uncle Jean!"

"If he's a soldier, like your father was, then what will you say?"

"Uncle Jean, Sir!"

His mother would laugh at his bow and tell him how happy his uncle would be to meet him.

d'Artagnan wasn't so sure, especially now that he was a Red Guard, and not a very good one according to his Captain. The Red Guards and the Musketeers did not like each other. He had been warned about their rivalry. d'Artagnan wished he could introduce himself, but he did not believe his uncle would want to meet his pitiful nephew who would not amount to much in the opposing Red Guards. Better to remain quiet about the connection.

(())

He had been assigned outside the palace, waiting for the Cardinal to enter. d'Artagnan watched for danger, kept his attention focused. It was surprising to hear the conversation.

"I want them all destroyed." The Cardinal hissed.

"One at a time," a woman's voice said. "You need to cut off the head first."

"Treville."

"And his lieutenant, Athos," she added.

"With them gone, the King will disband them," the Cardinal answered.

Curiosity got the best of d'Artagnan as he crept closer to the window. He saw a dark haired woman and the red of the Cardinal.

He was overhearing a murder plot involving his uncle. As a Red Guard, his loyalty was to the Cardinal, there had been an oath to his father, but in his heart his mother's words overrode them all. _Take courage, be kind and justice will follow._ The young man had to help his uncle.

(())

 

d'Artagnan, at his earliest opportunity, made his way to the garrison. Without orders he could not enter, instead he had to find another way in away from prying eyes. Finally, a side entrance was revealed as he watched the comings and goings of the Musketeers.

In his red uniform it was difficult to stay in the shadows, but he made his way unhindered to the second floor. He gave a quick knock before entering, Treville and Athos, another musketeer he recognized from court, looked up.

Treville put out his hand. "The message?"

d'Artagnan shook his head.

The Captain frowned. "Is there a message from the Cardinal or the palace?"

"Not exactly." d'Artagnan winced. "I've brought a warning."

Athos drew his sword, pointing it in the younger man's direction at the ready to defend his leader. "The Cardinal sent a _boy_ to threaten you?"

"I overheard a conversation." d'Artagnan's nerves got the best of him as he stumbled over the explanation. Judging from their reactions, they did not believe him. In fact, it seemed they thought he was deranged.

The sword was returned to its sheath. "And you wished to be paid for this."

He wanted to tell them it was for honor, family and his mother, not his father who he felt was disappointed from the grave. "No, no, not at all. I wanted to help." d'Artagnan shrugged as they studied him.

"What's your name?" Treville asked.

"Charles d'Artagnan," and the young man waited for a reaction at the recognition of the name, hoping to be welcomed as a long lost nephew, but nothing came.

"Thank you. Athos will show you out."

d'Artagnan nodded, followed Athos out the door, took in the view from the higher level and it struck him. He pulled on the musketeer's sleeve. "I must be discrete. Can I leave by the other entrance? If I'm discovered. . ." He would be dead, dumped in the Seine.

"Of course."

The young man had to try again. "I'm not crazy. I'm telling the truth."

Athos opened the door for d'Artagnan, then closed it behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos! I am glad it is being enjoyed and i hope the story continues to be interesting for readers.

Yes, there had been that hope his uncle would recognize him, but he looked too much like his father. His mother said although he was as handsome as his father, he had her heart.

That was the problem, better he looked like his mother with the soul of his father. Alexandre detested that his son was not ruthless, tried to remove all the traits that stained him with his mother's supposed weakness.

It was her weakness that led her only able to bring one pregnancy to fruition, and her weakness that caused her death trying to bring another life into the world.

d'Artagnan did as much as he could with the warning. When he had duty in proximity to the Musketeers, he made sure to be extra vigilant. His free time was limited; LaBarge gave him a lot of attention in training, which left him exhausted.

Walking through the market on patrol d'Artagnan was caught off guard when a child ran into him. He straightened up the boy.

"Are you hurt?" d'Artagnan asked, but the boy ran off.

"He probably picked your pocket." Another guardsman laughed.

d'Artagnan shrugged his shoulder- he didn't have anything of value to take, but in his hand there was a note he tucked away to read later.

(())

 

d'Artagnan followed the directions to find himself before a small house near the garrison. His hair was still damp from splashing his face with water. The young man shook out his hands to stop their shaking before knocking on the door.

A red headed woman answered the door.

"My name is Charles d'Artagnan and I am to meet..."

She waved him in. "We've been expecting you."

Athos was sitting at the table with two other Musketeers, Aramis and Porthos. The three were frequently together and even he had heard they were called the inseparables. "Constance is our friend and agreed to have a meeting in her home. I trust that this will remain a secret for her safety?"

"Of course." He would never want to put anyone in danger, and he could hear the undeclared threat should something befall the Musketeers' friend. .

"Sit down. You may know Aramis and Porthos?"

d'Artagnan gave them a nod as he took a seat at the table. A platter of food was passed to him, but with his arms feeling weak he set it down.

"Are you well?" Aramis asked frowning at the minute shakes that d'Artagnan tried to wish away.

"Target practice was intense," d'Artagnan answered, unwilling to explain he had to continue to shoot for hours until he hit the center repeatedly when he did not, LaBarge would hit him as reinforcement to do better until he was satisfied. d'Artagnan assumed he would get no sympathy from other soldiers if he complained.

Constance served him. "Eat something while they talk. They're good at that, like a bunch of hens."

"If we are such hens, then why do you invite us into your home?" Aramis grinned.

"Invite? I think I invited Athos out of gratitude, and the two of you joined him. You are very lucky my husband is an understanding man." Constance handed the platter to Athos.

"He travels quite a bit so we keep an eye on her for him," Porthos explained gesturing for the food to be passed to him.

"Do not let them fool you." Constance huffed with hands on her hips. "It is I keeping watch over them, and you are now welcome, too, d'Artagnan."

"I couldn't-" d'Artagnan was struggling to keep up.

"She's saying she likes you," Aramis interrupted.

Athos frowned at the sharpshooter. "We caught the assassin." He directed towards the young man.

"You did believe me?" d'Artagnan felt pleased he had made a difference, helped his uncle.

"Not exactly," Porthos shook his head. "It's not that easy with Athos."

"But, Treville has asked for your help." Athos looked away somewhat uncomfortable with the request.

Without hesitation d'Artagnan replied, "I'll help anyway I can."

"Let the boy eat," Constance grumbled.

Athos gave d'Artagnan a pointed look to take a bite, which satisfied the married woman.

Porthos had finished his meal, leaned closer to the younger man. "You’re a Red Guard, lad, not a Musketeer. You're supposed to be loyal to them."

d'Artagnan pushed the plate away. "I'm supposed to be loyal to France."

"Well put." Aramis stretched to push the plate towards the young man once more.

Athos placed his hands on the table. "We need someone to spy on the Cardinal. Treville thought you may be the person for the job."

"What do I need to do?" d'Artagnan took another bite. He wanted to help his uncle, and his uncle's men, the Musketeers. If he had been offered a choice, then he would have chosen the Musketeers over the Red Guards. The young man lost himself for a moment in the day dream.

"You should not accept so readily. It's dangerous work, especially if you're caught." Athos tried to dissuade him.

Porthos leaned in. "The Cardinal would kill you."

"Then I should make sure I am not caught." d'Artagnan was good at being unnoticed.

Aramis rested his chin on his fist as he studied the young man for a moment. "You are eager."

Athos bowed his head. "Very well. Treville will hold a stipend for you."

d'Artagnan thought about waiving off the money, however, he had a feeling that would be suspicious. Instead he agreed, and felt pride at the opportunity to prove his worth to his uncle. Maybe at some point he could divulge his identity to the Captain of the Musketeers.

(())

 

Their first sighting of d'Artagnan at the palace worried the three Musketeers. There was definitely no camaraderie between him and the other Red Guards. It puzzled Athos.

d'Artagnan was affable and had determination. From what he had told them he did not choose to be a soldier for the Cardinal, but his father had exacted a promise. It was the young man's desire to help them, which had Athos worried and doubtful of d'Artagnan's character. Athos was suspicious, convinced d'Artagnan was going to report on the Musketeers. Treville was willing to take the risk with the boy, but d'Artagnan would never be trusted. Spies were never trusted, even one so earnest. The situation was uncomfortable.

Yet, the young man seemed earnest and willing to sacrifice his life if need be. At least Aramis and Porthos liked the boy.

"They don't treat him well." Porthos growled.

Aramis sighed. "It's like we fed him to the wolves." The sharpshooter lifted a brow towards Athos. "Still think he's an agent for the Cardinal?

Athos shrugged. "He has a lack of self-preservation. I don't think that is a quality one looks for in a Red Guard."

"His father was a Red Guard," Porthos reminded his friend.

They were exiting the palace grounds, Aramis answered in a low tone. "I know Treville believes the boy will be unnoticed, but it is too much danger for one so young."

Athos frowned. "Constance has taken a shine to him so we cannot abandon him."

Porthos grinned at Athos's excuse as did Aramis. They knew him too well. "We owe him that for warning you and the Captain," Porthos added.

Truthfully, neither Treville nor Athos had believed the young man until a glint in the distance caught Aramis's eye. The sharpshooter dealt with the situation and an investigation led to confirmation of an assassination plot.

As time passed Constance would come to the garrison with the excuse of delivering garments. If there was any risk to Madame Bonaceiux's life as much as she enjoyed helping them, the connection would end.

It was not surprising to find Constance with a basket greeting them during early in the morning as they enjoyed their first meal. She came into the meal hall, set her basket on the table. "I've repaired your garments. Take care in avoiding swords and musket fire."

"Of course, Madame," Aramis said as he bowed to kiss her hand, which she pulled away.

"Please, I know your ways." Constance tapped the sharpshooter's cheek with her hand before giving a pointed look and leaving them with the basket of clothes.

Porthos went through the clothes to find the message. "Milady de Winter is the name of the Cardinal's agent."

(())

 

d'Artagnan could not help his nerves. He felt as if he was being followed, but he had taken precautions. He would never risk Constance- she had been very kind to him. When he reached Madame Bonceiux's home she ushered him inside.

"Can you stay long?"

She set him down with white wine and a baguette filled with brie and butter, touting he was too thin. "No, can someone be sent to the garrison?"

Constance wrote a note and gave specific directions to her maid to only speak to one of the inseparables. In the meantime, d'Artagnan dutifully ate his bread, the food helping his shakiness.

Porthos and Aramis entered the room behind the maid who quietly was dismissed to the back area of the house. Aramis reached out moving d'Artagnan's chin. "Are you all right?"

Wrestling and grappling had gotten over zealous with LaBarge ordering five men to attack the young man in order to build his strength. He was filled with similar bruises that were hidden by his doublet on his torso. "Just an accident."

"Where you walked into someone's fist-" Porthos started.

All d'Artagnan heard was his father's disappointment, remonstrations, reminders that he was pathetic. "I am not weak."

"No one said you were," Aramis reassured him with a sidelong glance to his fellow Musketeer.

d'Artagnan nodded as he regained control of the voices in his head. He had important information to deliver. "There is a plot to do away with the Queen."

"My God." Aramis took his hat off.

Porthos recovered quicker. "Do you have any details?"

d'Artagnan shook his head. "Not enough. I think that Milady may be involved."

The sharpshooter sighed. "We are looking for her."

The nervousness was settling in again as the feeling that all would not end well for him. He overrode the emotions by realizing he needed to return to his duties. "I must go."

Aramis grabbed his arm. "Endeavor to take care, d'Aragnan."

The young man appreciated the sentiment even though circumstances conspired against him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kio requested more description and well I added just because of the comment. I hope it is noticeable. Thank you so much for the kudos and comments. I am grateful. On to the next part!

Milady swept into the room with her dark green cape swirling behind her. Her collar was pulled high in order to obscure her face the velvet was soft even though her countenance was sharp angles. She was admitted into the Cardinal's private rooms decorated in the red and gold brocade that screamed his wealth and stature amongst France. "There is a spy," she announced to her benefactor with no preamble. Milady bristled at the indentured nature of her relationship to Richelieu, but he was also her savior.

"This is rich. I pay for you to be a better one. Rout them out." The Cardinal was standing, leaning over his desk reading some document, but blatantly ignoring Milady. His red robe enclosed him in an impenetrable shell the color of blood.

"It has to be someone who is near you." Her eyes focused on the heavy ornate door with its gold leaf crosses along with the flourishes, to the uniformed men who were waiting on the other side. It was possible they could overhear conversations, then be paid for their information. "The Red Guards are always looking to supplement their income."

The Cardinal looked up. "I will make inquiries with Captain LaBarge."

"Quietly and in private," Milady warned. She was worried about the ramifications to her future amongst the living. Her husband was about, although she was trying to do away with him. Milady could ill afford her past rearing its head providing a weakness into the corner of her soul. Unfortunately, Olivier as Athos the Musketeer was difficult to kill much like Anne as Milady.

The Cardinal looked down his nose in a manner which was supposed to belittle her. "I do not appreciate the impertinence."

Milady bristled. No man would hold dominion over her no matter his standing in France. As always, she would take matters into her own hands. The leather gloves she wore soft and supple against her skin even though she itched to find the spy.

(())

 

d'Artagnan accepted LaBarge's brutal training exercises and the scorn of his fellow Red Guards, believing he was working to help his uncle, bringing justice to right wrongs while following his father's directive. It was apparent the Cardinal was abusing his power when he set an assassin against Athos and Treville, and now there was a threat against the Queen.

Being placed on guard duty at the Cardinal's residence left him the opportunity to collect more information. Placed outside the door with another guardsman, Vieux, who had been in the Cardinal's employ for years, it proved to be a perfect opportunity as the door was left slightly ajar.

Milady's presence, her cloying perfume of jasmine still lingering long after she went by, had d'Artagnan on full alert, overhearing that the Baron LeDoux was sending a missive to the King about the oppressiveness of the taxes. The young man kept his eyes forward to mimic Vieux, knowing the Baron's messenger needed to be stopped by any means.

d'Artagnan knew he had to get this message to the Musketeers. Finding a free moment he brought a note to Constance, begging off food and waiting for the others. There was no time as he had other duties to attend as always trying to avoid the other guardsmen's ire.

When he was called into LaBarge's office he climbed the stairs trepidation. _Courage_ , he reminded himself. _Courage._ d'Artagan's hands went cold, his heart started to beat faster, yet he held his face impassive. It was a well-practiced manner he learned in dealing with his father.

The Captain sat at his too small desk for his large frame, but it was the woman in dark blue finery standing in the corner that d'Artagnan noticed after sniffing the sickly sweet scent of jasmine. Two guards pressed in behind him, holding his arms so he stayed in place. The heat of their hands a counterpoint against the coldness he was feeling.

"Not what I was expecting." Milady tilted her head to study him.

d'Artagnan held steady under the gaze although it was his Captain that had him flinching.

LaBarge snickered. "His father warned me that he would probably come to nothing, but he must be rolling over in his grave now to have raised a traitor."

"Who says?" d'Artagan tried to wrangle out of the grip the two guards had on him finding the motivation to be brave. The bullying would stop. "I am no traitor."

"The information you gave to your friends, the Musketeers, showed you a traitor to the Cardinal, your employer." Milady stepped away from the corner, narrowing her eyes, lighting them a penetrating green that speared him. "Yes, we know all about it. The Baron's _invitation_ was received by the King."

The young man gulped as he had been played, forgetting the other guard on duty with him had been a Red Guard for over five years. Trusted, where he had not been as the new arrival.

"There was no missive complaining about the oppressive taxes, instead it was a request for the King's presence at a ball." Milady arched her brow in a taunt that proved her cleverness.

The Cardinal dictated the taxes and would want to avoid the King having knowledge of the unhappiness of his nobles as the citizenry was bled to the breaking point of near civil war. Instead, it had been a ruse to find him, the spy for the Musketeers.

"We know how to deal with your kind." LaBarge nodded to his men.

d'Artagnan's mother's words whispered to him. _Take courage, be kind and justice will follow._ There was no hope in the words as he realized he had been caught in a trap with a violent ending. He was lost.

(())

Comfortable behind the well-used desk, the Captain of the Musketeers held up the heavy card, its seal discarded in a red heap. "The Cardinal has requested my presence on the King's hunting grounds where the last hunt ended." Treville had called Athos, Porthos and Aramis to his office.

It was an unusual circumstance for the Captain to discuss his correspondence with the other Musketeers. There was a reason for the revelation. "Why?" Athos asked succumbing to a complete lack of patience. The blue-eyed musketeer knew the other shared his concern- d'Artagnan had not been seen for more than five days. The information about the Baron had been incorrect.

True, part of Athos thought his suspicions about d'Artagnan being the Cardinal's man had finally been proven, but he and the others had the sinking sensation of the opposite. d'Artagnan had been discovered and was dead with the inseparables unable to protect the young man.

"I have no idea." The Captain tapped the card against the desktop.

Aramis spared a glance to Athos before diverting to Treville. "Must you go alone?"

The Captain leaned forward. "No, I was expecting some company."

"Do you think this is about d'Artagnan?" Porthos stated what was going through their thoughts.

They had used all their contacts, but still no answers on what had happened to the young man.

Treville shook his head. "I wish I knew."

With the Cardinal synonymous with treachery, they prepared for battle with muskets, powder at the ready and swords sharp. When they reached the grounds, the Cardinal's carriage was already there surrounded by five Red Guards. LaBarge came forward. "The Cardinal wishes to speak to you."

The Captain dismounted, leaving his horse with Aramis. Treville approached on foot, but Athos came closer on horseback. Two of the Red Guard intercepted him. Athos unsheathed his sword. He would gladly dispatch these two men who were keeping him from protecting his captain.

The Cardinal waved a hand to inform his men that Athos could approach. Athos was not about to allow Treville to be surrounded by Red Guard.

"I'll make this quick," the Cardinal growled as Treville took a seat in the plush carriage. "Sending your nephew to spy on me? Really, Jean, as if I would not learn about your deviousness."

"Nephew?"

Athos glanced back to Aramis and Porthos, wished they could also overhear this conversation.

"What have you done?" Treville's tone had changed to one of bitten words, ready to attack.

"You didn’t know. You should spend some time with your sister's child. He's been released from his duty to me." The Cardinal had humor in his voice. "Captain, bring the boy around."

LaBarge and another rider came forward, the rider turned to show a body wrapped in a blanket with a head of dark hair hanging from one end obscuring the face.

"Oy!" Porthos called out, but it did not stop LaBarge from cutting the bindings so d'Artagnan's body dropped to the ground with a thump.

In a moment, Treville was out of the carriage and the Cardinal's transport circled out at a fast speed with the Red Guard leading the way.

Athos barely let his horse stop as he jumped to the ground with Treville, Aramis and Porthos close behind. He was able to remove the blanket so Aramis could have more access to the bruised and bloody young man, avoiding taking in all the damage.

Aramis was kneeling by him, Treville and Porthos completed the circle on the other side.

"I did not know. . ." Treville pushed d'Artagnan's hair back from his too pale, molted face.

When Athos looked at each of the bruises, broken skin over d'Artagnan's face, visible on the younger man's upper chest where his shirt was half open and askew it was difficult to pull himself away. "Aramis?"

The medic was ghosting the body. "I would prefer a cart. There are ribs broken and we have to take care for them not to shift, but he's alive."

"Give him to me." Porthos stood. "I'll keep him steady if you guide my horse."

Treville, Athos and Aramis lifted d'Artagnan while Porthos mounted, then the three men carefully handed their charge to the larger man's awaiting hands. Athos took the reins of the horse- they had to rush, but not jostle the boy too much.

Mercifully, the ride to the garrison was not long and Treville yelled for a surgeon as they breached the entrance. d'Artagnan had yet to regain consciousness. Athos only hoped he lived for them to keep their promise as they had failed to keep him safe.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, commenting, kudoing and bookmarking. All are appreciated and warm my soul. This part is the last chapter and I thank you for liking the originality of the prompt as much as I did. I hope the OP enjoyed it.

_Blood calls to blood._

Yet, it was only with d'Artagnan bleeding and injured did Treville learn this was his nephew, son of his beloved sister. He was young when she married, then moved far away, his life moved on. Jean had always thought of her fondly though he never searched for her.

Once the Cardinal and LaBarge had set their suspicions on d'Artagnan by having him pass false information, then it was simply a matter of parentage. He would have given his mother's maiden name as du Peyrer, although common enough, the Cardinal was one who prided himself on knowledge as power. Everyone had skeletons in the closet, but Richelieu exploited them to his benefit.

Treville felt guilt as the boy lay in a pristine nightshirt, the collar open enough to see a black molted purple bruise as he lay on the white linen sheet, soft from being well washed. As a soldier Jean's focus was on his obligations to king and country. His brother wrote on occasion, and the Captain was easy to find, but there was never a letter from his sister.

Perhaps Treville believed he had been forgotten or Therese was too busy with her children, even grandchildren, to think about him. Sometimes there was the passing thought she had died in childbirth.  

In the bed in front of him was proof that she lived on, and Treville should have sought her out. Who knew if she had been happy or in need of her brother?

Treville felt as if d'Artagnan knew Jean was his uncle, but he would have to wait until the young man awoke to question him further.

They were occupying a room at the garrison with its furniture of a bed, table and chest. "The surgeon left some herbs to mix in a draught for the pain," Aramis explained gesturing to the table where the packets of herbs were next to the well water Porthos had brought in earlier.

Porthos wiped a hand over his mouth, uncomfortable with nothing to do but watch the lad breathe. "Not right what they did to him." Four broken ribs, a concussion, contusions and bruises so dark the surgeon worried about internal injuries along with the swelling and discoloration to d'Artagnan's face. "The lad had effects."

True, his nephew had belongings that were probably at the Red Guard barracks. Treville was not about to ask Richelieu.

Athos was leaning in the corner being watchful. "They're at the Red Guard barracks." He pushed away from the wall. "Should we take on that mission?"

The Captain understood that his men needed something to occupy their time and vent their frustrations from leaving the boy unprotected. The Cardinal would pay, but in the meantime some vengeance against the Red Guards was appropriate. "Aramis, if you could remain here." It was less of a suggestion and more of an order.

"Of course." Aramis bowed his head, his hat discarded on one of the table chairs. There was not much for the talented medic to do if there were internal injuries, but in that case then d'Artagnan deserved comfort.

Athos tilted his head towards the Captain, then followed Porthos to the stable. Treville had no doubt they would succeed. With only the two of them and the injured d'Artagnan in the room, there was an uncomfortable silence broken by Aramis.

"This is not your fault." The sharpshooter vacated the side of the bed after he used his foot to drag over another chair by the bed.

Treville's guilt was eating him as it did when his order led to injury or death of one of his men. This was far worse with him unknowingly sending his nephew into a bad situation, not caring about the consequences as long as they were able to keep a step ahead of the Cardinal. "I'm afraid it is. We needed someone to bring us information and d'Artagnan presented himself as an opportunity."

"We should have ended this earlier when we saw how he was being treated." Aramis was trying to take some of the burden from his Captain.

"Tell me." His men had not told him about anything being amiss until they had not seen the boy about the palace.

Aramis seemed uncomfortable with sharing anything further. "Shaky, tired, you saw some of the fading bruises." The sharpshooter adjusted the sheet.

It had all been there, evidence of abuse, leaving more questions to ask his nephew when he awoke. "My sister wouldn’t want this life for him."

"It's an honorable profession." Aramis defended. "Will he have a place with us?"

Treville wiped a hand over his mouth. "Yes."

Aramis seemed relieved. "Good. d'Artagnan is strong willed, Captain. He will survive."

"Did he mention his father? I have a vague recollection of the man, but nothing more." The Captain had been informed that d'Artagnan's father was a former Red Guard, which was the reason why the young man was following in his footsteps.

The sharpshooter looked away, started fiddling with the edge of the sheet.

"Not a kind man then," Treville surmised. It was all so long ago, but he realized his mother had pushed Therese into the marriage, not wanting another woman's child in the house for longer than needed.

Aramis shook his head. "Not in so many words, but there are actions, little slips. . ."

Treville understood. "Then he is more like his mother."

"She must have had a strong spirit." Aramis took d'Artagnan's pulse, holding his wrist before tucking it back under the sheet.

The Captain hoped Therese was watching over her son to lead him through and back to family.

(())

There was an incessant buzzing like the honey bees by the pond at home. d'Artagnan wanted to return to the dream. A memory of his mother, father away and they were outside walking near the pond by the farm enjoying the spring day with the smell of honey catching on the breeze.

Vivid green grass crunched under his bare feet.

"You need to grow up good and strong." His mother with her long dark hair down with a flower tucked behind her ear held his hand even though he ran ahead so she had to stretch to keep a firm grip.

"I am strong, Mama." He squeezed his mother's hand to prove it.

"And good," she said after they had stopped running.

He didn't know if that was true. He _tried_ to be good, but it was hard. “Papa’s always yelling at me, saying I’m not good.”

“Papa just wants you to be better, but you are a good boy, Charles.” She bent down to kiss the top of his head. For a moment d'Artagnan could smell her lavender scent.

“Yes, Mama.”

The dream was fading as he lost the grip on his mother's hand. d’Artagnan hurt. He didn’t feel strong. As for being good, well, the Cardinal discovered he was a spy. He had dishonored his father by his ways, and had not helped the Musketeer. As always, he was a disappointment.

Slowly, the buzzing was turning into voices and the hurt became unrelenting pain releasing itself in a groan that brought a moment of silence.

“d’Artagnan? You’re safe at the garrison with the Musketeers.”

Hearing the word 'safe' made d'Artagnan open his eyes to half-mast, though his headache required him to close them once more. They needed to be patient for him to get his wits about him recreate some sort of pride.

This time instead of Treville, Aramis tried to tempt him. "We're becoming a bit worried. Porthos starts to break things when he's worried."

"Lad, don't believe him. He starts crying." Porthos added.

"I do not."

"Perhaps, if you are silent the boy will grace us with his presence," Athos interrupted his friends.

That brought some quiet again, no buzzing, but his pain was still there insistent enough to force him to face the men he had failed. d'Artagnan opened his eyes to see Treville and Aramis sitting by his bed while Athos and Porthos leaned into the space.

d'Artagnan tried to work some saliva in his mouth, tasting blood as his tongue licked along his teeth. The sharpshooter brought a cup so his lips while the Captain helped to lift him up as Porthos placed another pillow under his neck. Athos gave him a small grin.

The young man blinked slowly to clear his vision, bringing in clearly the bruises on the faces of Athos and Porthos. "What happened to you?" His voice was raspy and foreign to him.

He brought a hand up to his throat, but Porthos caught it. "Run in with the Red Guard, worth it though."

"Your personal items have been returned." Athos gestured with his neck to a carved box on the table.

They parted so the young man could see the small wooden box he had carved himself with his initials on the top that was piled on his clothing. It held tokens of home, his mother and better times. Yet, it wasn't worth people getting hurt. "You didn't have to do that."

"We thought perhaps you had some important memories inside." Athos picked up the box and handed it to Treville.

The Captain laid it beside the injured man. "Of your mother?"

"My mother?" d'Artagnan felt lost, overwhelmed. He had been beaten at the hands of the other Red Guards. For sure d'Artagnan believed he would die in that cell, not find himself amongst the Musketeers.

"Therese, my sister?"

In awe the young man gave an abbreviated nod as the motion jarred his healing body. "You know."

The Captain sighed. "I wish you had told me."

"I didn't think you would believe me." d'Artagnan felt embarrassed, his skin prickling with it.

"Anyone would be proud to claim you as nephew or son," Treville said while giving him a pat on the shoulder.

d'Artagan was confused. "But I failed." Surely, these men were only helping him because the Cardinal had dumped him into their hands.

The older man cleared his throat. "I failed you. I never should have allowed you to spy for the Musketeers."

Struggling to sit up, d'Artagnan was helped by multiple hands which overwhelmed him enough that he took in a sharp breath, forcing him to close his eyes to momentarily escape the pain.

"Shhh. You are hurt and you need time to heal and we will help you." Aramis placed a hand on the young man's chest.

d'Artagnan frowned as he was set back into multiple pillows which helped lessened his aching back, but did not help his confusion. "Why?"

Athos stepped forward. "You saved us, helped us at a great cost. We think you're worthy of being so much more than a Red Guard."

When d'Artagnan was slow in response, Porthos intervened. "A Musketeer."

No. The men before him earned their title. "I don't want your pity. I know I am not Musketeer material."

Treville scratched his beard. "Prideful, loyal, brave…that describes only the best of my men." The Captain got up from his chair. "I need to return my duties. We will talk some more later. I would like to hear about my sister."

"Thank you, Sir, Uncle, Captain. . ." d'Artagnan fumbled, seeing his mother's amusement in Treville's eyes.

"Uncle is fine now, but when you are in my command perhaps another title will be appropriate." With that dignified sentiment, the Captain left the room.

Weighty exhaustion was pulling at the injured man. Though the wounds pulled at him and he hurt, d'Artagnan felt an unclenching of the fear that followed him like despair as the three men nudged him into sleep though there was still so much to say.

(())

Milady could not restrain herself as she entered the Cardinal's private apartments in his residence, opening and closing the door before the guards could react. "You let the spy go free?" When the Cardinal continued eating his meal and ignored her she purposefully grabbed the silver knife to aim it. "Why?"

Richelieu looked up, raised a brow before returning to his quail. "I have my own endgame. Let's not forget who works for whom."

"I have not forgotten." Milady's voice dropped to a lower octave in anger she was trying to control. "You've tasked me with a job and that boy knows too much."

The Cardinal placed his cutlery down. "He's with the Musketeers. I do not care if he lives or dies."

It was permission enough for her to do what she needed to in order to survive her position with the Cardinal. She turned her back with a snap of her cape and left Richelieu to his evening repast.

(())

Athos knew the young man struggled to believe that he would eventually be a musketeer. As he healed the trio also tried to build d'Artagnan's self-esteem and learn more about the Captain's nephew.

The picture painted by d'Artagnan's words were of a demanding, controlling and abusive father. Those were not the words the young man used, but the inference was there. Treville had to leave the room at one point with his jaw flexing as he held tongue.

The Captain spent time with his new found nephew, learning about Therese life on the farm. It was evident her world revolved around her son and the marriage was not happy. Treville added it to his regrets, and vowed to do better by her with her son.

The young man was still in a significant amount of pain. At night Aramis would prepare a sleeping draught, which was taken fully willingly once Treville made the request. The boy acquiesced to his uncle each night as if wanting to keep in his good graces. At some point they expected the young man to show some willfulness.

Athos had left Treville watching over d'Artagnan while he went to clean up after a day on palace duty. He would then sit with the young man for a bit before heading to a tavern with Aramis and Porthos.

The loud noises outside of the garrison garnered his attention as he was making his way to d'Artagnan's sick room on the second floor of the garrison. Athos saw Treville called to the disturbance as he quickly made his way down the wooden steps. Athos was about to join him when a shadowy movement by d'Artagnan's door had him walking, then leaping at the shadow as the assailant opened the lad's door releasing a little bit of light into the night.

There was a dagger in the attacker's hand, which Athos slammed on the ground to break the grip. It was then he noticed how slender the body was, the curves and _breasts_. With a still firm grasp on the woman struggling underneath him, he pushed back her hood.

"Anne."

She met him evenly. Her porcelain visage the same as he remembered all those years ago. "Olivier."

Keeping her immobile, Athos brought them both to standing and ushered them into d'Artagnan's room depositing Anne in a chair far away from the sleeping injured man. He held his musket steady, keeping himself between d'Artagnan and his presumed dead wife as he came to his conclusions. "You must be Milady de Winter."

She tilted her head, but did not answer.

"When he wakes he will confirm it, Madame de Winter."

"I did marry you for your intelligence." She pulled off her gloves.

 

Blessedly, d'Artagnan remained asleep, lost in the draught Aramis had made him. Athos studied his wife and her cool demeanor, yet he could still feel the passion between them. It was still there and he had to strike back to bury those feelings. "Not for my title and money? What a surprise. Tell me, does the Cardinal pay his spies well or only his mistresses?"

Anne tried to strike him for his insolence, but he held her fast.

Treville opened the door taking in the sight of his lieutenant and a beautiful woman sitting in a chair. The Captain closed the door quietly behind him. "What happened?"

Athos placed his hands on Anne's shoulders, clamping down to keep her in place. "Captain, may I introduce you to Milady de Winter, formerly my wife, Anne, the woman who was attempting to kill your _nephew_ , d'Artagnan."

With understanding dawning on Anne, there was a flicker of a tremble through her shoulders.

"I suppose the Cardinal failed to inform you."

Treville circled around them. "He doesn't even know she is here, I gather. You are a liability to him, Madame."

(())

"You didn't know." d'Artagnan sat with still healing yellow and purple bruises, but his time outside in the sun made him content. There were still marks on the young man's body along with some residual pain from the broken ribs which would take more time to heal.

"No, I did not. If I could have spared you. . ." Athos tried explaining again. He wanted d'Artagnan to understand he had worth and their protection. It also allowed Athos to make amends for his mistake in trusting Anne all those years ago. Atonement would take the form of building confidence in the younger man as they saw potential d'Artagnan still doubted. Qualities like bravery, courage and loyalty made for good brothers.

Porthos interrupted after throwing his last knife at the target. "Eh, enough already. She was a spy and a good one."

"Is it hard letting her go?" d'Artagnan asked quietly.

Aramis shared a look with Athos.

The lad worried of being a bad son, cursed from beyond the grave by his father, and this was an opportunity for Athos to show he could move forward. His time with Anne had passed. "No."

"Good riddance." Aramis clapped Athos on the shoulder.

Milady had been ordered to go to England and never return. A confession was exacted from her about her dealings with the Cardinal including a plot against the Queen to murder her. Treville informed the Queen and gave her the letter for her safe keeping after informing the Cardinal of its existence. Blackmail brought a detente.

"All your complaining about getting out of bed and all you want to do it sit in the sun like a cat?"

Aramis had declared d'Artagnan fit enough to start training slowly when the young man complained after days of lying in bed. There were still winces, livid bruises that would take more time to heal, but Treville had left his nephew's training in the capable hands of Aramis, Athos and Porthos.

"Let's see what they taught you." Aramis offered him a hand up.

Porthos slipped onto the vacated seat of the bench. "We'll leave wrestling for later."

"Muskets?" Aramis handed over one of the weapons on the table.

"LaBarge said-" d'Artagnan started until Athos interrupted him, unwilling to hear the Captain of the Red Guard's judgment.

"They can't teach you a sense of justice, d'Artagnan. It makes your place with us."

 _Take courage, be kind and justice will follow._ His mother's words not forgotten. They were premonition of a brighter future.

d'Artagnan bowed his head in remembrance, recovering he aimed and fired.

The End


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things-I saw Cinderella, and whoever requested the prompt was inspired by the movie with the "be kind, have courage." This means that d'Artagnan is actually Cinderartagnan. Anyway, as promised, the epilogue which AZGirl prompted. Please enjoy and thank you for the kudos and comments. I am going to to on vacation and then be back with some stories, I hope.

d'Artagnan kept his head lifted, shoulders back with a quick gait to take him back towards the garrison.

His captain had requested he deliver a letter to another section of Paris. It gave d'Artagnan an opportunity to test his understanding of the ways of the large city, which were important when on patrol. The young man called his uncle his title of captain when he was on duty.

Off duty d'Artagnan held no doubt of the family bond with his uncle. D'Artagnan shared all his memories of his mother. Uncle Jean was amused that Therese had her young son practice meeting her brother.

"She knew you would be a great man."

"I should have searched for her. She was good sister. I am sorry for her loss."

D'Artagnan never said his father would not have been happy having his wife's brother around. In fact, there was much he left unsaid about his father.

It was the stories his uncle told of campaigns and solider that held d'Artagnan's attention. Showed d'Artagnan he had much to measure up to in order to become a Musketeer.

Then there were the inseparables, who had a never ending well of patience when it came to teaching him. They kept stressing the need to relax. It seemed LaBarge's training kept him on edge, and he was supposed to trust his instincts and abilities, which the Red Guards taught him to ignore.

None of it mattered if he did not catch the attention of the King, incredibly difficult when one was in such amazing company.

With the delivery of the letter to the baron, d'Artagnan was returning with the response, careful with the missive. It did not matter if the note had nothing to do with state affairs; the young man treated it as imperative, which was why he was vigilant.

Still it was difficult to be prepared for the vitriol the Red Guards threw at him when he passed by the sole route.

"Traitor."

"Scum, more like."

One of the guardsmen, DuPaul blocked his way. "Look how far you've fallen. A lapdog for those Musketeers."

The other two stepped forward and pushed him, with one sneering, "Not good enough are you? We didn't want you and neither do they."

As DuPaul pushed him off balance, d'Artagnan drew his sword, which led to the musketeer recruit landing on the ground with his blade pointed at DuPaul's crotch. "I'd be congratulated by the Musketeers if I took away your manhood. You're not using it anyway."

The group of Red Guards decided it was better they left, growling, kicking up some dirt as they moved away. D'Artagnan dusted himself off so not to draw his friends' attention when he returned to the garrison.

At the garrison, the Musketeers were gathered in the courtyard, milling about.

"What's happened?" D'Artagnan asked Athos once he found his friends.

Athos glanced up to Treville's office. "The Captain said he would be making an announcement shortly."

"He just returned from the palace," Aramis informed him.

Porthos jutted his chin. "Didn't look happy."

Before d'Artagnan could voice any concern, the Captain came out to the balcony. The Musketeers quieted.

"Because of the turmoil with the Red Guards, the King has decided to have a contest between the Red Guards and the Musketeers. Each side will have a champion. There is a thirty livre entry fee."

There was a roar of approval and some grumblings about the fee.

"I don't have the 30 livre fee," Porthos agreed with the others.

The sharpshooter placed a hand on his friend's back. "Porthos, my friend, I am happy to share my ways. Come."

Aramis tugged at Porthos's sleeve until he moved with the sharpshooter out of the garrison.

D'Artagnan looked up at the balcony once more, but the Captain had already returned to his room. "Athos?"

"No, I have no interest. You?"

The young man rubbed his upper lip. "I'm not a Musketeer and I don't think I would be a good choice against the Red Guards." Of course he tried to avoid them as they considered him a traitor. He fought back, but had taken some unavoidable injuries in those battles.

Athos placed a hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder, giving it a squeeze before letting it drop. "Who better than one that knows their ways? Ask Treville."

D'Artagnan bit his lip as he considered whether he was overstepping. Yet, Athos had not steered him wrong before, following his friend's advice he took the stairs two at a time. The young man knocked, waited for the call to go in.

Treville looked up. "D'Artagnan, can this wait?"

"I'll be quick, Captain. I would like to enter the competition. I know I'm not a Musketeer, but as a novice I was hoping. . ."

The older man waved his hand and gave a small grin. "Very well, but you will need the entry fee."

"Thank you! I'll get the fee." He gave an aborted bow as he backed out of the office much to his uncle's amusement.

(())

Aramis and Porthos’s adventure to the church resulted in them finding patronesses. When they arrived d’Artagnan and Athos were working on swords. They stood on the sidelines, giving encouragement, admonishments and when appropriate insults until both men stopped.

“Treville is letting him compete," Athos announced before reaching for a water skin.

D'Artagnan bowed his head, but then as usual deterred the conversation away to others. “Did you find patronesses?"

"He doesn't often have a good idea, but I have to say in this he's brilliant." Porthos patted Aramis on the shoulder, making the sharpshooter step forward.

Aramis enjoyed the accolades and attention. Porthos's mood had improved too after talking to the widow Alice. “Do you need tutelage? I am willing. . .”

“Aramis-“ Athos warned, recalling how d'Artagnan acted around the fairer sex. The boy's personality was evolving from hesitation to headstrong, but when it came to women, d'Artagnan was timid.

In trying to get the young man to relax they had tried all their methods- d'Artagnan was a boisterous drunk and an adequate card player, but taking him to Madame Angel's had left the lad painfully tongue-tied. Thankfully, Madame Angel's girls understood the situation and invited d'Artagnan back anytime he wanted with coin, of course. “Constance need not find out."

“Constance is married, happily. . .” d'Artagnan defended his landlady as always.

Aramis could barely contain his grin. “But, her cousin, what is her name, Fleur. She need not find out.”

Porthos laughed as d'Artagnan blushed. Constance, as much as she loved her boarder, had shared her matchmaking skills with the others. From what Madame Bonacieux said, Fleur dominated the conversation, but still it was good for the boy.

D'Artagnan shook his head. “Uh, no, I will find the funds.”

Athos came to the boy's rescue as he could never see him squirm in embarrassment too long. "Come, d'Artagnan, let's practice again so I can be assured you will win against these two."

"Hey!" Porthos shouted in mock hurt.

The sharpshooter was more dramatic with a hand placed on his heart as he stumbled backwards. "I'm wounded. I was only trying to _help_."

((()))

Money was an issue. With the Red Guards he was boarding at the barracks and received an allotment in addition to his stipend from the farm. However, with the Musketeers, he needed to find and pay for living accommodations so most of his money went towards board. Even living frugally, he had already gone through the money he saved and his farm stipend was only enough to cover his board.

Constance, he knew, could ask for more, but had been kind so he did not want to take advantage of her by asking for a cut in rent.

His landlady studied him as usual looking for anything out of place. "Are you needing a meal?"

"No, thank you, just stopped in to clean up before meeting the Captain." The recruit was trying to make his way upstairs, but Constance sensed something amiss.

"Was it a good day?"

"There is going to be a contest between the Musketeers and the Red Guards, and I am allowed to enter." Talking about the challenge still brought no solution as to the money.

Constance smiled with excitement. "Could this be your chance?"

"If I am chosen…"

"You will be."

"I hope so." d'Artagnan did not want to put his uncle in any uncomfortable position.

Tonight was dinner with his uncle as they tried to connect on a personal level each week if they were available. They never spoke of money, but his uncle was generous with him, purchasing the meals. The excuse being that he had many years to make up for and d'Artagnan's mother had cared for him as a child.

In a tavern that was above the usual fare he went to with the other Musketeers, his uncle was waiting in the corner.

"The stew is quite good tonight," Treville announced, having already ordered for them.

D'Artagnan nodded. Truly, he never turned away any food just fortunate there was a meal for him. Minding his manners, d'Artagnan ate slowly.

"Are the Bonacieuxs treating you well?"

"I try to help with deliveries. I can sew well enough, but Bonacieux is hesitant at having me around the fine materials."

"Perhaps that is best since he is being paid to be the tailor, not you." The Captain drew an eyebrow up.

The Bonacieuxs were his friends, and he defended them. "His customers like him and his work."

"The Musketeers have no complaints." The Captain gestured to d'Artagnan's empty bowl. "Would you like another bowl of stew?"

The young man had cleared his bowl, sponging the sauce with crusty bread, but shook his head at wanting more. "How did you become Captain?"

"It is not as exciting as you believe. . ." His uncle spoke about meeting the king, then just a prince and how Treville had saved Louis's life.   When the story was completed, the Captain took a sip of his wine. "d'Artagnan, you do not have to answer this, but you've shared memories of your mother and listened to my soldiering stories-"

At some level, d'Artagnan was expecting this would happen. He was weak and his uncle would rather not associate with him outside of the garrison. "Would you rather we keep our relationship professional? I understand-"

Treville gripped the young man's arm to keep him from leaving. "No, not at all, I am glad you are here in Paris. I could not ask for a better nephew. I am just concerned since you never speak of your father."

"Oh." D'Artagnan swallowed. Alexandre d'Artagnan was an uncomfortable topic filled with mixed emotions, a box he was unwilling to open.

When the Captain decided his nephew was not going to pull away, he released d'Artagnan's arm. "If ever you want to speak about him, I will listen."

"Thank you." The young man was relieved.

His uncle read the situation well enough with a small smile. "Your other uncle has written me, and he would like to meet you if ever you are in Orleans."

"I'd like that. What's he like?" His mother had told him about Uncle Francois, but he was pleased he was gaining more family.

(())

Athos had already decided not to participate in the challenge with no need for coin or want to be named King's champion. It also served as another purpose to push d'Artagnan's suit forward. Athos did not speak to the boy about the money situation, only trained him so he would be in the best position.

Still he was surprised when d'Artagnan tossed the pouch of money in the bowl. "You raised the money."

"I did." The young man watched the bowl circle to the others.

Athos frowned, wondering. "Did your uncle-"

"No!" d'Artagnan's vehement reply echoed with pride.

"Peace," Athos put his hand up.

The young man calmed, then looked down in repentance. "I sold my father's watch."

"D'Artagnan. . ." The older man knew d'Artagnan did not have many worldly possessions, only enough to fit in a small chest.

The recruit shook his head. "He didn’t _give_ it to me. It was mine by inheritance. It wasn't special and I don't know if he even _wanted_ me to have it. I was his son so it was mine, no other reason."

Athos did not want to push further as they had to prepare for the tests ahead. When all was completed, Treville came down the stairs to make his announcement, shocking the Musketeers.

D'Artagnan's dejected sigh caught the attention of the three inseparables. "He has his reasons, I'm sure." The young man did not see how incensed Athos was becoming until his foot was on the second step. "Wait. Where are you going?"

"To talk to Treville," Athos announced as he stopped.

"Please not on my account."

The older man shook his head. "This has gone on too long…"

Athos's resolve almost broke when d'Artagnan grabbed his arm. "He's my uncle. My only family."

"Not your only family." Porthos pulled him away and Aramis blocked his way so the recruit could not stop Athos from his mission to talk to Treville.

Athos entered without knocking. "If you want to relive your glory days for your nephew I can tell you that d'Artagnan already holds you in the highest esteem."

The Captain paused from his writing. "I do this for the good of all my men."

This only served to make Athos angrier. "He's scared to lose you or disagree with you. You are running a fine line of being like his father." It had gone unsaid for too long, Aramis, Porthos and even Treville had guessed that Alexandre d'Artagnan was a manipulative, overbearing man who had dominated his son.

"That's enough." Treville growled with a flash in his eyes. "I will do as I see fit. You are dismissed."

Pivoting, Athos turned his back and left the office. A line had been crossed, but Athos would not take the words back unless he had reason.

(())

D'Artagnan took a step back as his former Captain, the leader of the Red Guards stepped out as the Red Guard's fighter.

"He's fighting LaBarge," Porthos said, looking at his companions.

"He is going to kill him," Aramis added as LaBarge started his assault.

The fighting was brutal and underhanded on the part of the Red Guard Captain as he kicked sand in Treville's face, then taking the opportunity to stomp on Treville's shoulder with enough force the crack was heard.

Aramis, Porthos, Athos and d'Artagnan jumped in and the other Musketeers present kept the other Red Guards in attendance at bay. The King called a halt, then having witnessed the deceitful attack and gave Treville the option of choosing another fighter to represent the Musketeers.

"I choose d'Artagnan," Treville said as Aramis helped him to standing, then escorted his uncle off the field.

Athos pulled the younger man close. "You can do this."

Now was not a time to be tense or afraid.

"Pathetic." LaBarge laughed as he sliced towards d'Artagnan's middle.

Now was not the time to think about his father.

He had friends now that would watch his back, protect him as he did for them.

He had found his uncle.

Fighting for the honor of the Musketeers, he saw the truth as his sword came down.

No matter what had happened in the past he had survived. The brutality of his father's demeanor could no longer hurt him. He endured his Red Guard training even though LaBarge was cruel.

His determination and strength gained him friends and family.

This moment he would win, no matter the taunts from his opponent, because he believed in himself.

"Go to hell," d'Artagnan stated as his sword found its way into LaBarge's gut. The man would suffer before death, but it would end his tyranny.

Pushed to the ground by Aramis with the King in front of him, surrounded by friends and family, Charles d'Artagnan became a Musketeer.

(())

Before they were off to celebrate with a night of debauchery, according to Porthos, d'Artagnan asked to speak to the three men and his uncle. They went to Treville's quarters where the Captain was resting.

"You have asked and I'd like to tell you about my father."

They did not interrupt him. _"I do not believe he liked me much. I think he wanted something more, or someone more like him and I just was lacking."_

A weight was lifted as telling the truth resulting in the past, his father, losing power over him. D'Artagnan felt stronger as a man and Musketeer.

His mother's words about courage, kindness and justice were about persevering to find his place in the world with the Musketeers.

The end.


End file.
